If I could count the number of times I’ve tried to start writing on this blog again, well… I’d probably end up with the same number of people that will be offended by this post. It took me some time get back to writing, but believe me, in the months I’ve taken to myself, I’ve managed to store a lot of what it is that keeps you coming back for more. Call it my brain sperm. I will impregnate you all with it and you will love it.
People think that college life is so easy. There’s a simple formula for success. Drink, go to class, vomit it all up and somehow still gain 50 pounds. To the people who continue to circulate those stereotypes of us hard working students… you forgot to add, “do things we regret” (by things I mean people)… (Or if you go by the name of My Mother: I mean do things to educate and empower young women to become … ahh, fuck it). Like I said, a simple formula. The beauty of college, something that allows us to start over, get past our sins and really confront who we are as young human beings- is graduation. Once you’re gone, you’re in the clear! I believe the phrase goes: If a penis falls in between your legs and there’s no baby to cry about it in 9 months - KEEP IT MOVING!
What I’m trying to say is that no matter what happens here on this campus, everyone you meet will one day go back to their corner of the earth or the rock they crawled out from underneath and you’ll never have to see them again! For some, it’s a blessing. Remember the girl who wouldn’t screw you so you took a massive dump in her toilet, didn’t flush, left unannounced and assumed that she’d correctly translate it to “IF YOU WON’T FUCK ME, GO FUCK YOURSELF”? That is someone you definitely shouldn’t run into again. Then there’s the classic “I swear I don’t have a girlfriend that I’m waiting until tomorrow to go facebook official with so that I can shove my tiny chode into you for 8 seconds” guy. KEEPER! And by that I mean you better keep-her locked in a cage somewhere so your new mrs. never finds out you filthy fucker. Let us not forget the girl who jerked you off then threw a fit when you exploded in her eyes and nose as you just sat back and laughed in her face. Running into her… would actually be HILARIOUS!
I propose we raise a glass filled with the alcohol that will most likely be a catalyst to yet another great story and give these outstanding individuals (some close friends of mine) the bravado they deserve. Here’s hoping that most people will never know the identities of you all behind these incriminating acts. Just remember, what happens in college stays on my blog forever.
Everyone knows about ASU having the highest concentration of sexy people within a few mile radius, but no one ever stops to think that this percentage also includes our delectable professors. Sure, people might blame our lower than the legal alcohol limit grade point averages on the constant binge drinking, and perpetual states of being hung over… some even go as far as saying it’s the heat- even though it’s ranging in the mid 50’s right now. I like to think that none of these causes are to blame.
It is in fact, the fault of the very ones who stand before us and preach the principles of knowledge- aided by their insipid TAs and mundane PowerPoint slides. The only thing keeping me awake in my physical geography class is imagining my professor scaling the side of a boulder ass naked. Having perfectly sculpted shoulders and forearms that could do nothing but direct my day dreams towards picturing him greased up in a shake weight commercial; is it any wonder that my definition of the sun’s penetration is him having me bent over his podium? Kind of graphic, I know, but you seriously expect me to be taking notes with thoughts like these racing through my mind? Yeah, snowball’s chance in hell… (Which is zero… a little something I picked up when we talked about climate… oh yeah, and that the subsolar point is directly located on the small of his back right before it hits that gorgeous backside… umm… something something degrees latitude [quoted from my lecture notes]).
Don’t take this the wrong way, I’m not saying that we should do away with the professors who’s 10 out of 10 looks make even science lectures seem vastly entertaining. What I’m saying is that they should make their office hours later on in the evening such as 10pm-Breakfast to accommodate any “educational” needs I might have. Is that too much to ask?
It’s been a while. There certainly is a lot to say. First of all, I want to share with you all something very personal. I am so glad that in my last post, I poked fun at my dad and he was able to read it and have a good laugh at his own expense. He loved reading this blog. I would get a call every Sunday night from him asking when my new post would be up. I’m heartbroken to say that he passed away last month this very evening, but I really like to think that he is still reading, like he always did and that I continue to make him proud with my twisted sense of humor. I dedicate this entire blog to him. He was a wonderful father and I miss him even more each day that we are not together. I love you Dad.
My last post was mainly about how hot my mom is. True story. The only thing you know about my dad as of yet is that he may or may not have had a tiny Jewish penis. If you really must know, and it will help you sleep at night… you can call (818) 520-1027 and ask his first wife. I’m just kidding, that’s actually the number to a local radio station and if you call asking what size my dad’s penis was, I’m pretty you will eliminate your chances of winning Taylor Swift tickets…even if you are the tenth caller.
I’d love for you all to know more about who he was as a person. Here is man who lived on the edge of life and loved to take chances. He also found joy in pissing people the fuck off. I’m proud to say that my daddy truly was a crazy, evil genius. From an early age, he had already begun his life as a perpetual prankster and community menace when he decided that he would take it upon himself to leave a high school dance early and disassemble all of the cars in the parking lot in order to make placing their parts down the street a lot easier for himself. You would think as he grew older and his fleeting adolescence grew more and more into a thing of the past, that he would abandon his old ways and take a more civil and mature approach to life. False. That did not happen at all. He remained the mischievous deviant that he grew to love being and used his notorious powers for good in the Los Angeles area. I grew up with a dad that loved to challenge authority and make a statement wherever he went. It was only a matter of time before large corporations started sending dartboards of his face and other knick-knacks to his office to send a clear signal of their views on his less than conventional methods of business. The only problem was that he was extremely flattered by their grand gestures and they only served to encourage his bad behavior. In his mind, he had clearly accomplished just what he had set out to do.
Even in his last few months, his wayward spirit never faltered. He had undergone brain surgery and my family was waiting for him to wake up. What happened next will most likely be a story that is passed from generation to generation in my family, because it truly encompassed the utter essence and being of who my father was in one single moment. He must have been planning it for all of two seconds, but his first thought when he gained consciousness, was to pretend to be paralyzed, sending his wife and my aunt into fits of complete panic and almost causing them to faint into hospital beds of their own. I can still hear him laughing, completely satisfied with himself.
He always told me that when he was gone, he wanted me to tell my children stories about my “crazy daddy.” It was how he wanted to be remembered. Since I don’t have children, you people are pretty much the closest thing. Thank you all for being so kind and wonderful to me throughout this whole process. I will keep this blog up and running and with a new semester starting at ASU, there will be much to talk about. I can’t wait to get back into the swing of things!
Speaking from experience, I would have to say that it’s a curse to have a MILF for a mother. I have to tell you that constantly hearing jokes about how my Asian mom should get to see more in her lifetime than just tiny little Asian penises, is really getting old. My dad is Jewish! Oh wait… point NOT made. Sorry Daddy. Well she’s currently married to a giant African man so I’m pretty sure she’s seen the light… or … the dark. Oh my god, shoot me now. I guess I might find the jokes more entertaining if they weren’t about the woman who went into labor with me, lathered me in bodily fluids and bonded with me as I starred into her eyes and (not so gently) nursed off of my sister’s hand-me-down milk bags.
I remember when I was in the sixth grade and I first learned exactly what a Milf was. My mom had come into my health class to talk about AIDS and educate the class about the many different types of STD’s. (Funny how I still ended up at ASU after that very compelling seminar… sorry Mommy). After she was finished speaking and the class period was over, a boy named Anthony came up to me and said, “Damn your mom is FINE! She’s got some succulent titties on her.” To this day, she is still mortified whenever I call her succulent or remind her of the fact that that little boy wanted a taste of her Milf and cookies and probably went home to do a lot more than just his homework.
In general, there’s just something about moms that make guys go crazy. It might be the experience factor they have going for them, and by experience I mean experience with accidentally getting pregnant and becoming an expert on birth control. It could also be the perky “I finished breast feeding my two kids 20 years ago” look their boobs have going on. Whatever the reason, it’s become pretty acceptable for people to go around saying, “Hey, I’d totally fuck your mom.” To them I say: enough already! My mom does not want to fuck you. If she wanted to get with a guy who’s wiener couldn’t even get stuck into a Chinese finger trap she’d just go back to her first husband. I know what you all are thinking and do you really think I’m that stupid… my dad was her second husband and he reads this. Hmm, married three times… and still gets catcalled on the street; I guess she is a Milf after all… Get it mom!
It came, it saw a ton of ass cheek and it most definitely conquered. Halloween has struck Tempe like the hand of God. While out this weekend, I tried to figure out what exactly it is about this holiday that keeps people coming back even more naked than the year before. Remember when your biggest dilemma used to be about figuring out which houses had the king sized candy bars or handed out dollar bills to the trick-or-treaters? Jews, you know what I’m talking about. Obviously you weren’t going to waste your time going to your neighbor Edna’s house for a handful of poppycock; you had to maximize your gains and hit the houses that were going to fill up your pillowcase with the best candy there was to offer, half of which you wouldn’t be allowed to eat- thanks to the anthrax scare. Now things have become so much more complicated. We have to constantly be on the lookout for the very real dangers lurking around every corner such as the guy who goes dressed as “dick in the box”… and actually has his dick in the box, whether or not someone is wearing a mask or they’re just that heinously ugly and if a ninja turtle challenges you to a dance off and whips out nun chucks.
Seeing the walking atrocities that I saw this past weekend made me say to myself: “how the hell have we let Halloween come to this?!” What used to be a fun filled week of innocence, candy and old scary movies has turned into a day that’s intended to objectify women, perpetuate sexist stereotypes and make light of a very firmly established problem in today’s society which… I’m just messing with you guys! I really don’t give a crap about any of that. Yes, women use this day as an opportunity to dress like complete and utter hookers and you know what? Who doesn’t enjoy getting away with wearing nothing but pasties on their nipples? Feminists, naysayers, people who don’t wear costumes- pelt your candy corn elsewhere. How can you not appreciate the epic magnitude of a day that gets even the most introverted, hermit-like girls to come out from under their rocks, squeeze into a cheap highly flammable, generic Wonder Woman costume and show some blindingly pale skin for one night out of the entire year? Why would anyone want to prevent that from happening?
I really don’t know how us girls got such a bad reputation anyway, seeing as how from personal experience, the guys were the ones who took the most risks this year. I saw more cross dressed, mostly naked, skanky Katy Perrys, Ke$has and Lady Gagas than I did when I had a dream that I lead the West Hollywood Gay Parade dressed as Bette Midler circa her Hocus Pokus days.
People really need to start being more grateful for the wonderful gifts that the Halloween Gods bestow upon us. If you think that you’re going to see a pregnant Care Bear, Marge Simpson and a Baby smoking a cigarette hanging out together anywhere else without smoking a dangerous amount of meth first, you’re absolutely absurd. We need this day, if for nothing else but to unleash our inner psychopathic need to be something other than ourselves or other than human, we need this day. I am entirely convinced that if Halloween didn’t exist, we would have people randomly dressed up one day out of their year and that would just be madness. I couldn’t handle looking over and seeing Sponge Bob at a stoplight, and I sure as hell couldn’t deal with trying to see past the red Teletubbie’s fat head in lecture. It just wouldn’t work. So give this holiday a break, go out tomorrow night and celebrate what an amazing crowd there is on Mill Ave. Maybe give a kid some candy without looking like a total pedophile. (If you just considered doing that, you’re a total pedophile and instead of thinking about mini genitals you should get some help.) I would like to end this post with a shout out to the guy who went as Le Cordon Bleu, wearing a blue jumpsuit and a bungee cord wrapped around him. Bravo.
People think that being a communication major is the easy way out when it comes to deciding where your educational and professional paths in life are going to cross and eventually lead you. I have to say that if you’re going to ASU, you really should not point the same finger that you use to scratch your ass because everyone knows that going here in the first place qualifies as taking the easy way out… or for guys: an easy way in. For those of you who haven’t chased your adderall with a redbull yet today, we are no longer talking about the school.
I have to say that when it comes to learning useful information that can be applied to everyday life, I couldn’t think of a more beneficial, fundamental set of accoutrements to equip me for living, than the skills I have acquired while taking those “easy” classes. I am able to understand why people are the way that they are and trust me, sometimes it can be a burden. Understanding you people is a full time job for my patience and they’re starting to feel like a kid in a sweatshop, overworked and underpaid.
You learn a lot when venturing through the reasoning behind the way people behave and interact. What is so interesting about this is that: It’s far more fun to think about what people do when they think they are not communicating with others. Allow me to be more specific. Adaptors-those things that people do when they believe no one is looking-are a great example. Think about masturbating… or for girls, facebook stalking. Everybody does it. Once, twice, fourteen times a day -depending on how needy you are, yet it is something that usually is kept private. You enjoy doing it, it gives you pleasure, and you usually have a specific person in mind. It seems harmless, but god forbid someone walks in on you, you slam your computer shut and nervously try to think of what will end up being the worst excuse of your entire life while simultaneously trying to begin to cope with the immensity of the shame and humiliation you are feeling.
So why is it that there are some things that are just so taboo? Why is it that I find the fact that I have just related creeping people via facebook to masturbating the most genius thing ever? And why on earth didn’t someone tell that girl this weekend that she and her camel-toe had to leave the party before it’s massive lips sucked up all the alcohol?! I don’t have an answer for you. But I do think this topic should seriously be given funds for extensive amounts of research because if nothing else, it would be pretty hilarious for an experiment to be conducted with a girl looking at frat-tastic pictures on facebook and a guy awkwardly jerking off in the corner of the same room. Just a little food for thought.
Halloween is next weekend, and considering the fact that it is pretty much the reason ASU students get out of bed every afternoon, I’d venture to say that Suni Side Up has great potential for it’s next post. I hope you all check it out!
There are always going to be things in life that we just cannot explain. Things like how the universe was created, what water tastes like or why the cast of Teen Mom thinks that it’s okay to leave their trailer parks every morning and attempt to be functioning members of society. Then there are the other things, one’s that we can explain, one’s we don’t want to explain and then the one’s we just wont. Sometimes what we really need is a little bit of clarification to help us through the uncertainty and confusion of misconception.
I spent the past weekend doing what we students here at ASU do best. To avoid people thinking that I spent the entire time being penetrated by someone who’s stuffed their genitals into a hole more times than a first grader shoves a cool new pencil into a sharpener, I am going to say that I spent my weekend doing what we do second best: drinking in an attempt to make everyone around us seem more attractive and interesting. Like I said, we all just need a little clarity every now and then. While waiting in line to buy a drink, I was approached by two guys who needed just that. One said to me “I just have to ask what you think about a situation we are in.” I didn’t mind lending my expertise on the subject matter which had not yet been disclosed, as I was very confident that no matter what I said to the guys, they were far too drunk and ignorant to get themselves out of whatever situation they were in.
It was explained to me that there was a girl in a bar who made eye contact with one of them for a second, she blinked twice and then walked away. The guy didn’t know whether that was an invitation to come and talk to her or if he was just reading into her nonverbals too deeply. Before he could even continue to slur the words of his interpretation of the “situation” I vomited a little bit in my mouth. Not only was I frustrated that I had just wasted approximately 3 minutes of my youth on these imbeciles, I was genuinely shocked that out of every place in the world I could have been at that moment, fate would have it that I was stuck sharing air with the two most oblivious douches in Tempe.
Out of the kindness of my heart, also known as sheer pity, I decided to help them out. I explained that she obviously was attracted to him because she blinked twice and not three times which would have translated to: “why are you looking at me like you haven’t been fed in a while.” Twice was good. It meant “meet me in the women’s bathroom.” As he looked at me in disbelief I kept complete composure. I couldn’t help but think to myself that I had done something great. I had turned a situation that could have potentially been a waste of time and made it one that I could call semi-entertaining. I believe there was a 43% chance that he was going to sprint into the woman’s bathroom in hopes to find the girl waiting for him and to be honest, the idea of that just tickles me.
It is so often that we blindly try to figure what others mean by what they do and say. It is extremely hard to just assume that people will be straight forward with you. That is why I encourage everyone of you to try your best to give someone around you a bit of clarity like I did this past weekend. I think that if we are all able to do that, well then… no women’s bathroom will ever be safe again.
I went home this weekend to spend some quality time with my family. I finally needed a break from all of the shenanigans. This period of time is what is referred to as a detox. I’m not here to tell you about my personal life and how I spent the entire weekend surrounded by people I love, pets I love even more and food I love most. I’d much rather talk about my airport experience.
Lets be honest, I didn’t really have time to people watch when I was literally sprinting to my gate due to the fact that I had just cut ahead of the whole security line and my flight was 4 minutes away from departure. Of course it would only make sense that the one time I actually had an early boarding pass number, I would find myself being the last to board the plane and sitting in between an old lady and a mouth breather. However, on my way back to school, the exact opposite happened. Not only did I arrive early to the airport, my fight was delayed! Hence, plenty of time for judgmental people watching.
There are some things in this world that I just accept that I will never understand. One of them being the girl limping through the terminal wearing 5 inch stilettos. It’s one thing to walk with confidence and it’s another to look like you’re attempting to summons Flava Flav from the dumpsters behind VH1’s production studio.
There are some people that just exceed all expectations and defy the laws of stupidity by… you guessed it… being even more stupid than you ever would have imagined possible. For example, letting your little spawn eat a snickers bar washed down with a coke prior to getting on a plane where their sticky little fingers will with out a doubt have their way with every surface in sight when they’re cracked out on caffeine is definitely classified as stupid. There are three things that I believe should never be airborne: toddlers, children, and anthrax. I will always stand by that statement. Speaking of anthrax, something I always do before I get in line to board the plane is kind of like senior class favorites. You know, best smile, most likely to succeed, best personality and most likely to highjack the plane. It’s a great way of killing time.
Thankfully, I didn’t have to sit next to anyone on my flight home and my detox was actually very successful. Never mind the fact that there was some kind of threat in the airport tonight which left my plane circling above Tempe for an extra 20 minutes; I am back at ASU! It’s a new week, a new month and the same me… which can only mean great things are on their way!
If someone were to stop me on the street and ask me for the time, do you know what I would say? I would say: It’s the time when the local Safeway pulls out all of the stops. Never mind the endless isles of candy or the gourds and sweet potatoes that look like penises displaying the end results of a horrifically disfiguring disease due to penetrating any fraction of the female population at ASU. Walk right past those petty distractions and head to the tailgate section because Sun Devil football has arrived… and maybe then, after all of that I would say it’s a quarter after one.
Tailgating is so important to those here in Tempe because without it, we would have no justification for being drunk and stupid enough to stand outside in that heat for hours on end waiting to divulge our adoration for a team that’s one more win away from ditching mediocrity. But let’s take a step back, before the sun burnt shoulders and lines stretching back past Lot 59. To understand the true meaning of tailgating you have to first understand the people. I’m not talking about those 30 year old assholes who think it’s cool to show up dressed as teletubbies and vomit on themselves, traumatizing near by infants that have no business being at a tailgate anyway. No, there is no understanding people like that. I mean the stereotypical people that you could legitimately categorize into the same group no matter where you are because when it comes to tailgating, they’re always the same.
Lets start with the parking lot partiers. These are the people who have absolutely no intention of going to the game, which they have dressed up for and pretend so adamantly, to be excited about. This group is also known as the cheap bastard brigade. Often times you will find them huddled together and mooching beer that they took no part in providing. But never mind them; let’s move on to a group of tailgate goers that are always a pleasure to observe. You have to catch them at just the right moment because one quick movement could send them running off in all different directions. I’m talking about freshmen. Whether they are wandering aimlessly trying to figure out why everyone is dressed in gold and drinking in the parking lots or swinging their school id’s around on their lanyard necklaces, they’re like meek little zebras in a lions den, too easy to identify. They are also the ones that you will see leading the cross-country marathon back to the dorms to avoid undercover cops handing out MIC’s like roofies at a frat party. That’s something they’d dread having to bring home to mom and dad. After all, there is nothing like a $500 fine to say “thanks for paying my out of state tuition,” though I would much rather have parents that are strict and out of state than the ones I see hanging around student tailgates. There is also more specifically: The “Cougar-Milf” who’s only criteria for shameless flirting is that the individual claims they are at least a day older than the child she birthed 18-21 years ago. I have emancipation papers ready to go if my own mother even thinks about coming near the boys here. Her immune system is far too feeble to withstand the wide variety of hepatitis and typhoid these idiots are probably carrying in their back pocket next to their expired magnum that wouldn’t have fit them anyway.
If this wasn’t enough for you to want to drop everything and buy your tickets for next week’s game, unless of course you are a cheap bastard, I have saved my favorite category for last. I have yet to name this group because the term “annoying bitches” was just too general. This is that group of girls that stand in line complaining about everything under the sun only to get inside the stadium and complain some more about wanting to leave the game early. Oh wait, I just thought of a name for them… My Friends. You wanted a shout out in my blog… be careful what you wish for.
Now all of this is not to say that I don’t absolutely love the thrill of school spirit mixed with inebriated and senseless partying. I am all for it! But that doesn’t mean that from time to time I can’t poke fun at the people that inspired this post, and believe me, they know who they are. Thank you to all those who make it possible for the rest of us to laugh at your expense and as always, thank you to Arizona State for giving us a place where whether we win or lose we can always booze.
If there is something that has been weighing heavily like an invisible yet, omnipresent cloud over the campus of ASU this week, it has been the talk of relationships and I can tell you now that it’s about to rain. As the students in Arizona experience the shift in temperature and the cool breeze of the 90’s rolls in every evening, I know they can’t help but think to themselves, “Did I bring my North Face?” or “I wonder if I can still fit into those dilapidated UGGS that I got for christmas in the seventh grade” two things that anyone going to school in the middle of the desert should never go without. Two things that I am not too ashamed to admit are sitting in the back of my own closet at this very moment. Who doesn’t love an outspoken hypocrite? But the other thought going through their minds, and I know some of you are shocked to learn that more than one thought can travel through the mind of the students here, is that they need to figure out a way to attract the opposite sex while wearing clothes that actually cover genital areas, which (if we are being honest, and I …. usually am) is nearly impossible to do. So they immediately latch on to someone who can manage to tolerate them while they’re not naked until the sun comes out next year and once again, like leaves from a tree, the clothes come off and the world is right again.
Something about the change in weather makes people think that it’s time to pair up and tough it out through the agonizingly arctic winter that starts to creep up on us every year around this time. It might be an animal instinct… you know, like hibernating or flying south for the winter (not meant to be a sexual innuendo, but actually worked out quite swimmingly), or even just the comfort of being able to climb into bed and feel the warmth of another person there to calmly pacify you to sleep, because in your mind, heating blankets are a foreign concept or were never invented.
Some might say: “You’re just saying that because you haven’t found the right person” or “My boyfriend and I have a great relationship and do not appreciate your belittling blog posts about it not getting cold in Arizona. I will have you know that it hit 61 degrees last year, you cynical bitch!” Well, to those independent strong minded yet dependable and insecure girls who feel the need to defend their relationships with the morally remarkable and outstanding gentlemen of ASU I say, where IS your human heating blanket? Did he remember to text you after he finished brushing his teeth so that you two could lay awake on the phone at night and further immerse yourselves deeper into the meaningfully mundane conversation of what you had for lunch today? Who wouldn’t want to talk about your thoughts and feelings for hours at a time every night of the week. Oh wait…. GUYS. And now that I think about it… most girls as well.
Whether or not it is the weather that drives us crazy, or just the lack of eligible human beings that makes this season, for all intensive purposes, hunting season… It is so interesting to walk around campus and notice the protrusion of couples, with out fail, every way that you turn. Though summer, which is now coming to a close, was filled with constant cesspool-side activities and outrageous quantities of cheap vodka, I am sure that ASU will not disappoint us this winter. I am personally looking forward to the many upcoming events taking place within the next few months and I can only imagine that when they happen, you will all log on to tumblr to see exactly what will be served to you suni side up.
